


Synthetic Uncertainty

by The_Epitome_of_Pretense



Series: The Sole Saga [25]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Angst, Bedside Hand-Holding, Brotherly Bonding, Brotherly Love, Danger, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Forehead Kisses, Forehead Touching, Healing, Holding Hands, Hurt, Hurt/Comfort, I Love You, Kissing, Near Death Experiences, Pain, Robot Feels, Robot/Human Relationships, Romantic Fluff, Suspense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-11
Updated: 2019-03-20
Packaged: 2019-11-15 16:16:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 10,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18076727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Epitome_of_Pretense/pseuds/The_Epitome_of_Pretense
Summary: Disaster strikes when Nick and Sole explore the Harbor Grand Hotel.





	1. Descent

Nick looked up to find that the storm clouds had rolled in faster than he expected. He could barely see a thing through the rain; it wasn’t heavy, but it was dark. It made him glad to be with someone who could see well enough in the shade.

He crouched on the uppermost roof of the Harbor Grand Hotel. Sole lay on her belly beside him, her eyes trained down the sights of her sniper rifle. He watched her make several minute adjustments to her aim, then she took a breath and let it out. She paused, tightening her hold on the trigger. A shot rang out. On the roof across the courtyard, a vague form dropped out of sight.

Nick stayed silent. There would be plenty of time to congratulate her later, but for the moment, he wouldn’t risk ruining her concentration. He pulled his coat tighter around his neck.

Soon another hulking figure lumbered into view, drawn by the sound of his fallen brother. Nick heard the quiet hiss of Sole’s breath, followed by another shot. The second mutant dropped beside first.

“I think that’s the last of them,” she murmured.

“Glad that’s over with,” he said. “Mutants sure make terrible innkeepers.”

“You’re telling me.”

He dropped down to the main roof and offered Sole a hand. She slid down with a light tap. It still surprised him how little noise she made; he had grown used to his own heavy step.

“Staircase is this way, right?” he said, starting for the next portico.

As he neared the structure, the roof groaned under his feet. He froze.

“Careful. Want me to go first?” Sole said.

“No, that’s alright. Maybe if I keep to this wall here…”

He edged closer. The roof creaked again. He paused, but the noise continued. Then the horrible realization struck him.

Before he could take a step back, a gigantic arm reached around the corner, grabbed him by the sleeve, and threw him across the roof. He rolled to a stop near the edge. With a shock, he realized his feet were dangling in the open air. From the middle of the roof, the view didn’t look so bad; being right next to it, it almost gave him chills.

The supermutant stomped closer. Nick fumbled for his gun. Before he could wrench it from its holster, a shot split the air. The mutant fell beside him with a crash that seemed to shake the whole building.

His legs slipped further over the edge. By instinct he reached out for something to hold onto, but found only flat roof, made slick by the rain.

Before he could call for help, he slid further. Next thing he knew, he was dangling over the three-story drop, gripping the drainpipe with his damaged hand.

Sole screamed his name. He only half-heard her; his attention was fixed on the ground below, so distant and shadowed that his eyes could not quite adjust. A moment passed before he remembered himself.

He struggled to find a foothold. Sole appeared above him, her eyes wide with terror. She sucked in a breath. Without hesitation, she gripped his wrist with both hands.

“I’ve got you,” she said, her words thin with fear.

Nick struggled to find his voice.

“Back up,” he said. “I don’t want you any closer to this edge than you have to be.”

“I’ll help you up.”

“If I fall and you’re hanging onto me, you’re going to fall too,” he raised his voice. “Now back up.”

Her eyes met his.

“Don’t make me let you go.”

“I’ll be okay. If I can just…”

He wedged the point of his shoe in between the bricks and hoisted himself up. Just when he thought he was in the clear, the drainpipe broke away from the wall, dropping a yard before the support bands stopped its progress. For a moment, he wondered if he had left his insides behind.

“Nick!”

Now he had chills. Or maybe it was just rain dripping down the back of his neck; at this point, he couldn’t tell which. He chanced to look down again and instantly regretted it. Now the distant ground seemed to be spinning. He tightened his grip. He couldn’t let on how terrified he was; it would only scare Sole even more, and he needed her as calm as possible.

“Find some rope,” he said.

“Oh god—okay, I’ll be right back,” she said, her voice desperate. “Don’t try to move again—hold on.”

“Take your time.”

Her quick footsteps faded away. Nick let out a breath and tried to calm himself. Panic lingered on the edge of his thoughts; he had to remind himself that he could keep his grip indefinitely. And Sole wouldn’t leave him literally hanging—so there was no need to worry. But he would feel better about the situation if he had both hands on the drainpipe.

He reached up with his good hand. But the rain had made the pipe slick, and his metal hand slid down its length by several inches. He almost cried out, but fear silenced him. He couldn’t have said a thing if he wanted.

He was grateful that they had found a replacement screw for his wrist. If that wrist gave out now—

He forced himself not to think about it. Sole would be back soon. Everything would be okay.

As if on cue, he heard the slow approach of footsteps.

“Over here,” he called to her.

The footsteps paused. They drew closer, slower than before.

“What’s taking so long—?”

The words died in his throat. Those steps were too heavy to be hers. He fell silent, hoping that the monster up there would pass him by.

A tense quiet fell on the area. All that could be heard was the muted murmur of rain. Nick dared to hope that the mutant had moved on.

A face appeared above him. Not Sole’s. This one was large, with green skin and beady eyes and a mouth turned down into a menacing scowl.

The pipe shook as the mutant got down to his knees. Nick would have gripped tighter if he could. He desperately hoped that Sole was still far away in her search for rope. He hoped that he hung out of reach.

The mutant stretched a grotesquely muscular arm down to him. Nick considered letting go. Would he survive the fall? The odds would be better than—

Too late. The mutant took him by the wrist and plucked him away from the pipe. He lifted Nick until they were eye to eye. The mutant looked him over, confusion and disgust fighting for dominance of his expression. His eyes lingered on Nick’s damaged hand. His grasp tightened.

“Wait—”

In the blink of an eye, the mutant crushed his forearm.

Nick did not know if he screamed. Damage alerts flooded his mind. All he could hear was the rain hitting his shoulders. All he could see was the gigantic hand that held him aloft.

“Hmph. Metal man no good for eating,” the mutant growled. “Only trash.”

The mutant held him out further over the edge. Panic hit Nick in full force. He struggled to get a grip with his good hand. His fingers slipped off the mutant’s arm again and again. His mind raced to think of a plan—if he timed it right, maybe he could swing himself back into the roof just as the monster let go—maybe he could grab a window ledge as he fell—maybe—maybe—

He heard a gasp. He looked to the sound; Sole stood some yards away, a bundle of knotted bedsheets in her arms. Her eyes held all the terror of the end of the world.

He locked eyes with the mutant.

“Please,” he said. “Don’t.”

But there was no pity to be found in the monster’s face. He only laughed.

And then Nick was falling. The ground became clear beneath him. It drew near—faster than he expected—

Then nothing.


	2. Alight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A man can only fall to his death so many times.

His hearing was the first system to come back online. Nick listened to the hushed sound of raindrops hitting the earth beside him. It sounded different than it used to, like a record being played with a dull needle. He strained to make out each individual drop, but everything blended together in a distant whisper. The more he listened, the more wrong it seemed.

Then he was falling, faster than the rain, the ground rising to meet him over and over again. He dug his fingers into the mud. He knew it wasn’t real—a man couldn’t fall to his death that many times—yet the vision played and replayed in his mind amid the dozens of damage alerts.

His vision came online next. Dull, gray light flickered into view. Everything looked grainy and out of focus, as though he were looking at the world through dirty glass. He tried to blink it away.

Then his sense of touch came back online.

A shock of agony seized him, striking every part of him all at once. Memory of a stinging force lingered in his skin. He lay on his side, and he could tell by the arrangement of his limbs that something was out of sorts. The damage alerts almost drowned out all else. He tried to gasp for breath, but his chest could only expand so far.

 _Damage acknowledged,_ he thought. _Pain acknowledged. Damn... make it stop…_

The sensation began to ebb away. It still lingered heavy on his shoulder and knee, but at least the pain was no longer paralyzing. With slow care, he struggled to his hands and knees. Sharp, stabbing pain jabbed his right joint when he tried to put weight on it. He shifted to his heels, hoping that it would hold out long enough to get to shelter. Something was after him, but he could not remember what.

Through the haze, he could just make out the remains of an overhang. He started toward it.

The first step sent him back to the ground. The world shifted and spun around him, seeming to tilt upside down; he clutched at the ground to keep from falling away. He squeezed his eyes shut and waited for it to be over.

After a moment, the spinning stopped. He could breathe again. He reached out and dragged himself into the shadow of the overhang. There he leaned against the side of the building and tried to sort through what happened.

He must have fallen off the roof, he figured. Maybe he slipped on a loose board or something. Yet that theory didn’t explain why his mind went wild with fear when he thought about being up there.

A pair of cruel, beady eyes flashed through his mind. Suddenly he was back on top of the building, dangling high above the ground, racing to come up with a plan. The supermutant gripping his arm wouldn’t think twice about dropping him, he knew.

And Sole was there. He could see the horror in her eyes.

Nick came back to himself with a shock. She was still out there. The mutant was still out there, too—did Sole have her gun with her? He couldn’t remember. He listened for the sound of gunshots, but an eerie silence, disturbed only by the rain, lay upon the courtyard. Whatever was going on, he had to find her.

But how could he, when he couldn’t even stay upright? He reached out to feel at his knee—only to find that his right hand had been bent and twisted into a clenched fist. If he tried, he could just move his first two fingers. The whole hand jutted out at an odd angle; he rolled up his sleeve and saw that the forearm was crushed and bent.

He struggled to keep calm.

 _It can be fixed,_ he told himself. _I’ll need help, but it can be fixed._

He forced himself not to consider what sort of repairs he’ll need for his hearing and eyesight. If that could even be repaired at all. But that was a problem for later; for now, he needed to find Sole.

A shadow moved in the corner of his sight. He squinted through the haze and the dim light; something on the other side of the courtyard was coming closer. Fast. With heavy footsteps that shook the ground.

Now the panic he had been holding back swept over him in full force. He reached for his gun, but his mangled hand was no use. He tried to grab it with his other hand, but his shoulder made a grinding sound that would have turned his stomach if he had one. The massive shadow stomped closer. His hands shook so violently that they were almost unusable. He managed to work the gun free of its holster with his right hand, then picked it up with his left. Now the shadow was almost upon him. He lifted the weapon as high as his damaged shoulder would allow and struggled to take aim.

A shot tore through the air. The shadow dropped. Nick wondered how it happened; he hadn’t pulled the trigger yet.

A smaller shadow came into view. He tried to aim again, but his vision flickered too much to get a clear shot.

The figure called out to him. He strained to hear what it said. It held up its hands in a peaceful gesture and drew closer. He recognized the rhythm of those short strides. He dropped the gun.

“Doll,” he muttered. Even his own voice sounded grainy and distant.

She ran to his side and fell to her knees beside him. Then her arms were around his neck, pressing him close, her burning warmth a welcome distraction from the pain.

Her body shook with sobs. Hot tears fell on his brow. He reached up as high as he could with his good hand and hooked his fingers over her wrist.

“...Thought I lost you,” she murmured.

He leaned into her embrace.

“I’m here,” he said. “Don’t cry; everything will be okay.”

“Why are you comforting me? You’re the one who got thrown off the roof.”

“I’ve had worse.”

She almost laughed.

“Liar," she said. "Come on, let’s get you out of here. Can you walk?”

“Not very well,” he paused to catch his breath, “but I’ll manage.”

She pulled his right arm over her shoulders and tried to hoist him to his feet. After a struggle, she set him back down.

“One second,” she said, then took a bottle of medication from her pocket and popped a capsule into her mouth.

“What’s that?”

“Rad-X. For the Fog,” she said.

He nodded and braced himself for another try. This time they succeeded. Sole took a deep breath and directed them northward, toward Acadia. Nick’s right leg dragged with every step.

He focused on the sound of rain and the heat of Sole’s arm around his waist. Erratic damage alerts still flashed across his thoughts. The pain of surface damage usually dulled over time, but this was different. He wasn’t sure how long he could keep the worry from showing on his face. Or how long he could ignore the icy, dripping sensation in his middle.


	3. Ablaze

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The road to recovery is a long one.

Nick couldn’t say how long they had been walking. He knew better than to trust his sensors in their current condition. If he believed what they told him, that would mean the world had flipped upside down, his right knee had been skewered with a harpoon, and Far Harbor’s coastal chill had been replaced with weather patterns better suited for Death Valley. Sole still had her arm around his middle and his arm over her shoulders, helping him limp along. He hoped she couldn’t feel the heat he felt. 

Whatever the temperature really was outside, he couldn’t ignore the fire building in his chest, or the violent tapping that came with it. It made him wish for the cold he had felt before.

Sole paused to take another pill. He wondered how many that was now; difficult as it was to focus on anything, he knew she had taken far more than usual. Could the Fog be that bad? He squinted, trying to make out if the mist was heavier than before, but he couldn’t see a thing through the flickering haze that lingered in his vision. Shadows rimmed his sight. Night was coming on. And his chest still burned. 

While Sole was busy stuffing the pill bottle back into her pocket, he reached up and undid his tie. If he could just open up his shirt a little, it would do him a world of good. He felt like a chimney with all that heat rushing up through the gaps in his neck. His fingers fumbled with the buttons. His hands still shook, and his chest heaved in his struggle to keep cool; between those factors, he couldn’t come close to getting a grip. After a moment he gave up and tugged at his collar, hoping the buttons would undo themselves. Anything to relieve the burning. 

“What do you need help with?” Sole asked. Even with his damaged hearing, he could tell that she sounded tired beyond account. 

“Just these… damn buttons…” he said between gasps. 

With a gentle hand, she unfastened them and opened up his shirt. It wasn’t much, but having one less layer helped. 

“You feel like you’re burning up,” she said. “Do you want to take a break?”

“Won’t help,” he said. “You alright?”

“I’m not stopping ‘til I get you to Acadia. If you can keep going, I can keep going.”

She dug out one more pill, then continued down the path. Nick doubled his effort to support himself. That meant putting more weight on his bad leg. He tested it out; something sharp pressed the underside of his skin, but he ignored it. If he played his cards right, he could strike a less painful balance. He would just have to pay close attention. 

“How far… how far are we?” he said.

She unwound her arm from him just long enough to check her Pipboy. 

“About halfway there,” she said.

Nick wanted to scream. He gritted his teeth and nodded. 

“I can try to pick up the pace,” she said. 

“Don’t wear… wear yourself out,” he said. “I’ll get by.”

“Okay. Don’t push yourself too hard, honey. I’ll get you there one way or another.”

She pressed a quick kiss to his brow. 

I know you will, he wanted to say. All he could manage was a grunt. His frequent gasps were helping less and less as they went on. Something else was taking up space in his respirator. He forced himself not to think about it—just keep breathing, keep cool. Keep going. 

They continued on for an inscrutable amount of time. It had to be a few hours at least, he figured. He hoped it had been longer. Then again, with all his sensors out of skew, it could have just been a few minutes. He wished he could blink them straight to Acadia. The fire grew with every step; he wondered how Sole didn’t burn herself, being so near. 

He tried to readjust his stance so that she wouldn’t have to hold him as tight. His right foot slipped on the muddy path, and in spite of his best effort, he stumbled. Sole kept him from falling, but it wasn’t enough. The stabbing pain in his knee at last burst through his skin. 

Staggering could not begin to describe it. Agonizing came close. He could not even cry out—his breath caught in his throat, halted by a pain that transcended words. He clutched at Sole. The last of his strength gave out. He sank to the ground. 

She knelt and leaned him against her. 

“Nick? What’s going on?” she said. 

He tried to catch his breath long enough to speak, but his body refused to obey. Damage alerts clouded his thoughts. The tapping in his chest grew to a pulsing thrum, like a trapped swarm of bees. He gestured to his leg. 

She lowered him down, laying him out flat, and rolled his pant leg above the joint. She sucked in a breath. He tried to ask her what the damage was, but his voice still failed. 

“It’s cut right through you,” she said. Her voice shook; whether it was from worry or fatigue, he could not tell. 

“I don’t think I can fix it right now,” she continued, “but I’m going to try to secure it so that it can’t cause any more damage. I’ll be as gentle as I can.”

She took something from her bag; it was a small, metal container that rattled as she handled it. Before he could ask her what it was, she swallowed one of the tablets. Then she ran her fingers along his skin, seeking out the seams. She gently pried the skin away, working it loose with a slow determination, until she revealed the structures beneath. The feeling of having a piece of him unraveled like so much cloth always made him queasy—rather, it forced him to remember the sensation. He dug his fingers into the mud. 

She pushed against the jagged piece, shifting his whole body in the process. 

“Can’t get this to bend back down…” she murmured. 

There came a pause. He could hear her rummaging through the underbrush for something. 

“Brace yourself,” she said. “I don’t know if this will hurt or not.”

He closed his eyes and nodded. Whatever she was about to do, he doubted it could be worse than what he already felt. 

Then the pounding began. She had found a stone and was beating the bent piece back into place, slowly, deliberately. He could tell each strike was careful and measured. Even so, it was far from comfortable—not quite painful, but deeply unsettling. 

She fished a roll of duct tape from her bag and tore off a strip. 

“Here’s what I’m going to do,” she said. “I’m going to put some of this on the inside to protect you from the sharp edges. Then I’m going to put you back together and reinforce the outside to keep the cut from getting worse. Okay?”

He nodded. Or he thought he did. Everything was beginning to grow numb. She reached over and squeezed his good hand; he squeezed back, hesitant to let go. 

To his surprise, he could breathe a little easier. The ground was chilly from the rain; lying on it had helped to cool him somewhat. He chanced to take a slower, deeper breath. 

A gurgling sound met his ears. Though it was distant and gritty, he could tell it didn’t sound good. He tried to cough up whatever had set up shop in his respirator. It was a mistake. One cough soon became too many you count. He put a hand to his mouth and forced himself to stop. Something cold dripped from the corners of his lips. 

Sole knelt by his face and put her hand on his shoulder. He pressed her closer. 

“Help me up,” he said, careful not to breathe too deep. “We’ve got to be… to be close,”

“It’s just at the top of this hill. Are you sure you’re up for it?”

He nodded. Being off the ground would mean more overheating, but he wanted to get to Acadia as soon as possible. Getting rid of more layers would help in the meantime. He reached for his coat collar and tried to pull it off his shoulder. 

Sole got him to a sitting position, then helped him shrug out of his coat and shirt. She wrapped his arm over her shoulder. 

“Ready?” she said. 

He nodded again. His inner mechanisms ground together as she hoisted him to his feet. In spite of his best effort, he let out a groan.

“That’s it,” she said. “I can’t keep dragging you along like this.”

She lowered him back down and leaned him against a tree. 

“I’m going on ahead and bringing back help.”

“No… I’ll come with.”

“I’ll find you again, I promise.”

“I can make it,” he gasped.”I can—”

Sole took his face in her hands.

“Nick, listen to me,” she said. “You’re just going to fall apart if we keep this up. Please trust me to find you. I did it once; I can do it again.”

He knew he was already falling apart. And if that was going to happen, he would rather be safe in Acadia. He would rather be with Sole. 

“Don’t…” he whispered. 

“What?” she leaned in closer. 

“Don’t leave me… alone… out here…”

Her breath caught. She pressed her forehead to his. Her voice trembled with the effort to hold back a sob.

“I love you,” she said. 

“Please…”

“I’m sorry.”

And she was gone. 


	4. At A Loss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The night just got darker.

Everything had gone dark. Nick hoped it was just from the lack of sunlight. Before, he could just make out the purple streak of the night sky above him. Now that was gone, too.

He shifted to where he could breathe a little easier. He still gasped for every breath, but lying still for a time had cooled him to a less agonizing temperature. Raindrops fell slow and heavy on his bare shoulders. He wondered how long he would have to wait for Sole to come back. Without the distraction of getting somewhere, all he had to focus on was the pain. He clenched his fist and gritted his teeth. He hated taking this lying down.

The supermutant’s words echoed in his mind.

“Metal man no good for eating. Only trash.”

He ran his fingers over the exposed metal on his arm.

Only trash.

He knew it wasn’t true, that the Institute hadn’t really tossed him out with the garbage. But having a notion about oneself for so long—even a false one—left its mark. He still hadn’t gotten used to the fact that his brother had helped him escape. Or the fact that he had a brother at all.

It had been raining the day he woke up in the Commonwealth. The first thing he remembered was the sound, the subtle murmur of water hitting metal. His soaked clothes hung heavy on his arms and legs, but he wasn’t cold. His head ached like he had been hit with a sledgehammer. He opened his eyes to find himself face-to-face with a paint-chipped, rusted hunk of junk that used to be a blue Corvega.

Before he could figure out how he got there when he had only just been in an exam room at CIT, he heard a growl.

He turned to the sound. He couldn’t say what leapt at him, but it certainly wasn’t a dog. A gangly mass of bone and charred-looking flesh was more like it. He threw his arm up in defense. The creature latched on and dug in with more strength than Nick would have thought possible. He scruffed the animal and tore it away from him. With a shock that almost turned his stomach, he realized that the creature had taken some of his skin with it.

He pressed his arm to his middle and forced himself not to look at it. He knew it would be bad; if he wanted to get to safety without spiraling into shock, he would have to just ignore it.

One thing was for sure: he couldn’t stay there anymore. He had to get out—before that mongrel came back for the rest of his arm. He pushed himself upright.

The junkyard melted into darkness. The rain remained. He looked around, trying to pierce the sudden gloom. Pain jolted through his knee with every movement; each time the severed nerves touched back together, the sensation came alive with a vengeance. His mind raced to remember where he was. He struggled to stand.

Then he was falling again. And Sole was out there. He needed to find her before the supermutant did. Before the the fire in his chest burned him away.

More damage alerts. Automatic diagnostic to begin in three, two, one. The stinging pain disappeared along with the sound of rain.

When he became aware of himself again, he found that he was laying on his side. He could tell that some time had passed. Of how much, he could not say. He tried to rise to his feet.

All his senses went offline again.

Then he felt the rain on his back. Flashes of white colored his vision. He felt about the ground until he found what he thought was a path. Something compelled him to follow it. Something important. Crawling did no good, not with his damaged shoulder and knee. He reached out with one hand and dragged himself along. For the first time that day, he was thankful for the mud. It made the process easier.

There came a snapping sound. His right arm went limp. He dropped to the ground.

Try as he might, he couldn’t force himself forward. The darkness closed tighter around him. The sound of the rain grew more distant, as though he were sealed up inside a box. What little senses he had left grew more and more dull. He gathered his strength for one last effort.

He lifted his head just off the ground, then let it fall. A smothering weight lay on his shoulders. It took all his concentration just to keep breathing. Even so, something in him prodded him onward. Told him to get back up. He tried to call out for help, but he couldn’t find his voice. He couldn’t do anything.

He didn’t want to, but he had to—he had to admit to himself that this wasn’t something he could push through. It was too much. He stopped trying.

He was falling apart. He was broken.

Only trash.


	5. Found

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> But it won't last forever.

More flashes of light. Not white this time, but yellow. And voices. He strained to hear them through the haze. They called his name. He tried to wave them over, but he could only lift his hand so far. 

He blinked, and the lights were closer. A half dozen hands were touching him, shifting him, laying him on his back. He couldn’t feel the mud under him anymore. They lifted him up on a stretcher and carried him away. 

He blinked. Here and there around him was the flickering glow of firelight. Something about it was familiar. 

They carried him through a door. The voices grew urgent. 

Someone held his hand. 

He blinked again, and next thing he knew, he was stretched out on something hard. Blue lights flooded his vision. He felt a hand on his forehead. And there was a new voice, soft and calming, familiar, but not quite human. 

“Nick? Can you hear me?”

He turned toward the sound. 

“Do you know where you are?” the voice continued. 

He struggled to draw breath. 

“Commonwealth,” he muttered. 

“Almost, but no. You’re safe now, in Acadia. Do you recognize me?”

He squinted at the figure beside him. Something about the irregular silhouette stirred his memory—deep memory. 

“You’re my brother,” he said.

“Yes,” he could hear the relief in DiMA’s voice. “Don’t worry, Faraday and I are going to get you up and running again. You’re in good hands.”

He nodded and let his eyes fall shut. 

He felt them digging at the seams on his chest, working the center plate free. A gust of freezing air plunged into his middle. He shuddered. 

“Faraday, you’ll want to put on gloves,” DiMA said. “There’s coolant everywhere. I don’t want you getting chemical burns.”

“I’ve got some gloves right here,” Faraday said.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” said another voice. A gentle voice, frayed with weariness. 

If he could have jumped off the table, he would have done so. He reached toward the sound with his good hand. 

“...Doll? That you?” he murmured. 

She laced her fingers through his. 

“I’m here, honey,” she said, then added with a tired laugh, “Sugar-circuits.”

He didn’t have to try to smile. Just hearing that pet name tugged at the corner of his mouth. All the memories, all the worry of the day came flooding back, but none of it mattered. She was safe. She had come back for him. He wasn’t just scrap metal on the roadside. 

He ran his thumb over her skin. He wanted to say something, but nothing seemed quite right. DiMA spoke instead. 

“These wires are almost burnt through. There must be a short somewhere,” he said. His voice took on an incredulous tone. “There must be shorts everywhere.”

“We may have to disassemble this here…” Faraday said, “and this will just need to be replaced entirely. I can make a quick run to the supply room.”

“Later. For now, let’s start by getting him cleaned up.”

Having so many familiar voices around him brought more comfort than the cool of the room. Nick relaxed and tried to focus on his breathing. Even with his chest cavity open to the elements, the remaining heat was less than soothing. He made the mistake of taking another deep breath. 

A violent fit of coughs shook his body. Cold liquid accumulated at the back of his throat; he struggled to spit it out. 

Through the haze, he heard Faraday’s voice, quieter than before.

“We can’t work with him moving around like this,” he said. 

There was a pause. He heard the sound of metal fingers striking a keyboard. He opened his eyes and saw the vague form of DiMA bending over a terminal. He returned to the table with something in hand. 

“I’m going to put you under,” he said. “Just for a little while. I’ve even queued some of my own memories for you to view while you’re out. It will be just like going to sleep and having a dream. When you wake up, everything will be better.”

DiMA tilted his head to the side. Nick could feel him pushing the skin away from the data port at the base of his skull. 

The feeling stirred a deep, visceral terror. Nick tried to keep calm—he couldn’t think of a reason why the action should upset him. Then he felt a connection snap into the port. His reserve disappeared in a flood of panic. He jolted away. Yet the connection stayed; he scrambled to reach it with his good hand. His fingers closed around the wire, and he yanked it out. 

DiMA gripped his wrist. 

“I promise this won’t hurt you,” he said. “Please let me do this.” 

Nick struggled to press his hand to the back of his neck. Fear gripped him. He couldn’t let that connection happen. Not again.

“It’s okay, Nick. This will take away the pain.”

A voice, not quite his own, broke through the crippling dread.

“Help me. Tell them to stop,” Nick said. “Please.”

DiMA fell silent. He released Nick’s wrist.

“What just happened?” Sole said, her voice hesitant.

DiMA let out a breath.

“This isn’t the first time he’s said that to me.”

Another silence. Then Sole leaned in close and placed a kiss on his cheek. She took his hand and held it tight. 

“I know this isn’t comfortable,” she said softly. “Just try to focus on me, okay? I won’t let anything happen to you.”

She gently worked the wire out of his grasp. Then she pressed her forehead to his and cradled his jaw, brushing her thumb over his cheek. 

It was the best thing he had felt all day. The panic began to subside. He almost didn’t notice the connection slip back into place. A twinge of fear threatened to take over. He squeezed his eyes shut and sent his attention to Sole’s soft touch. 

Nick couldn’t say how long he lingered at the edge of consciousness. With his last bit of strength, he gripped her hand before slipping away. 


	6. Awake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nick and DiMA have some catching up to do. But where is Sole?

Nick could hear the quiet hum of a dozen terminal monitors. The sounds blended together into a chorus that was neither harmonious nor dissonant. To his surprise, it sounded clear. No buzzing, no haze, no drone like a record player with a dull needle. Just sound as it should be.

He opened his eyes. The flickering, grainy look was gone. He could see the domed ceiling of the observatory clear as day. It made him wonder how he got there. He recalled being at the Harbor Grand Hotel, but the memories were fuzzy.

He sat up, rubbed his forehead, and tried harder to remember. Something felt different—something about his hand. The joints didn’t grind like they used to. He looked it over and found, to his surprise, that all the rust he had grown accustomed to was missing.

“Huh,” he said.

A shuffling sound came from near the monitors. He turned toward it; it was DiMA, who had just looked up from a terminal.

“You’re awake,” he said. Nick couldn’t tell if he sounded relieved or surprised.

“Yeah, I guess I am.”

He cast a glance back at the monitor.

“When these readings started looking different, I worried that perhaps something was wrong, but now I see the real cause,” he turned back to Nick. “It’s good to see you again, brother.”

“It’s good to see you too. Real good.”

DiMA crossed the room to stand beside the table. He snapped his fingers by Nick’s right ear, then his left, watching his eyes, gauging his reactions. The whole process reminded Nick of a doctor’s visit. When DiMA seemed satisfied, he said,

“How do you feel?”

Nick took a deep breath—it was the closest he could come to a yawn. No gurgling in his respirator this time. He rolled back his shoulders, savoring how smoothly everything moved.

“Better than I’ve felt in years,” he said. “I guess I’d gotten used to being worn out. Funny how you don’t notice things that build up slowly.”

“There was a lot that needed some attention, I must say.”

“Doesn’t surprise me.”

“Sole said you fell three stories. I’m impressed you survived at all.”

“Did I—?”

The memories came flooding back. The rooftop—the mutant—the ground rushing up to meet him. The countless hours of pain that followed. He shuddered.

“Ugh,” he said. “I’m impressed too. I think one level higher would have done me in.”

Worry overcame DiMA’s expression—worry with no small amount of sorrow.

“I’m glad it didn’t,” he said.

Nick cleared his throat and nodded.

“Anyway,” he said. “I know it’s not much, but… thanks.”

“You don’t need to thank me. I’m just grateful that I had the tools to fix you. Not to mention a helping hand.”

He nodded to the corner of the room, where Faraday lay stretched out across some storage boxes, his arm draped over the side. DiMA crossed over to him and tucked his arm back under the rough-looking blanket. After tugging the blanket closer about Faraday’s shoulders, he returned to Nick.

“Poor guy looks all tuckered out,” Nick said.

“He’s barely gotten any sleep these last few days,” DiMA chuckled. “I finally had to insist that he get some rest, but he didn’t want to be unavailable if I needed him. This is the compromise we reached.”

“Last few days? How long have I been out?”

“Only four.”

“Four days? You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

“Being disassembled and reassembled is a lengthy process. In addition, we had to replace a good number of parts. I hope you don't mind that I left your right hand bare; I've found thinner fingers to be more useful over the years.”

“Where’d you get the replacements? You got a room full of decommissioned Gen2s or something?”

“Yes.”

Nick raised his eyebrows.

“Oh. That’s a little morbid.”

DiMA shrugged.

“It’s practical,” he said.

Nick wondered what would happen if he kept a room like that in Diamond City. No matter how people took it, he figured the result wouldn’t be good.

“Can’t argue with that,” he said. “I guess I’d be in a tight spot if you didn’t”

“Too true. Oh, by the way, don’t try to walk yet. A knee joint was the only spare part we couldn’t salvage, so we’re working on constructing a new one.”

“Sure, sure. I’ll bet it’ll work better than anything the Institute could come up with,” he paused as another wave of recollection hit him. “...I guess I should thank you for busting me out of there, too.”

“So you were able to view the memories without any trouble?”

Nick could still see them in his mind’s eye; his younger self struggling against the memory reset; the scientists watching with an analytical, uncaring eye; how DiMA seized the opportunity to free him. His first confusing moments as Nick Valentine.

“It was a little odd, but it didn’t give me any trouble,” he said. “Felt like I was watching an action movie.”

“I’m glad you now know what really happened.”

“Hell of an operation. That Stevens seemed like a real piece of work.”

“You don’t know the half of it,” DiMA laughed.

Nick laughed too. For the first time in a long while, he felt that he could let his guard down and just enjoy the moment. He was happy for his brother’s company. He was happy that he had a brother at all. He knew exactly where he would have ended up if he didn’t.

DiMA’s expression fell to one of quiet thoughtfulness.

“Nick, I…” he took a deep breath and let it out. “If I had known this would happen, I never would have sent you and Sole into danger like that.”

Nick waved the thought away.

“Don’t beat yourself up about it,” he said.

DiMA shook his head.

“To think that I finally got my brother back after a century of thinking I had…” he pressed his eyes shut. “And then only to lose you again. I never could have forgiven myself.”

“Hey, hey, it’s alright,” he slid down from the table, careful to balance on his good leg. “Come here. I think you could use one of these.”

He pulled DiMA into a hug. DiMA hesitated, then returned the gesture. Usually Nick avoided physical contact; over the years, he had learned that most people weren’t eager to touch a synth. Unless it was to throw a punch. He surprised himself by being so open with DiMA; but he figured if anyone would be comfortable with it, it would be his brother. It made him glad to find that he wasn’t wrong.

“Thank you,” DiMA said. “That does help.”

“Good. I wasn’t sure if this sort of thing would mean much to you.”

“The gesture itself doesn’t. But I appreciate the sentiment behind it,” he said. “I suppose the experience must be different for you.”

“No, I think that’s about how it is for most people. It’s never about the hug. It’s about who’s doing the hugging.”

DiMA gave him one last squeeze before letting him go.

“It’s nice to know I’m not so different from the other synths here,” he said. “Sometimes I forget.”

Nick clapped him on the shoulder, careful to avoid the wires.

“Happy to help,” he said.

DiMA smiled and nodded. His expression became thoughtful again.

“There is something you should know,” he said. “Something I can do for you.”

“You’ve already done so much. I couldn’t ask for more.”

“Please hear me out. If anything like this does happen again—if there’s another accident, and I can’t repair you, you have… options.”

His tone carried an ominous note that gave Nick pause. He cast his brother a sidelong glance.

“What kind of options?” he said.

“I could save you,” DiMA spoke slowly, choosing his words with care, “by copying your personality onto an external memory bank of your own. Then if your body ever became compromised beyond recall, or, say, something happened to your brain, it would only be a matter of imprinting you onto a new body.”

The idea stunned Nick into silence. He couldn’t decide how he felt about the matter. On the one hand, he didn’t care for the idea of living forever; he wanted to do his part while he was still around, but being around indefinitely? It was a frightening thought. He had a feeling that what was left of this world would wear him down eventually; he wanted to go when he still had his wits about him. Taking a bullet for a friend would be ideal.

Then again, if he went before Sole…

He couldn’t stand the thought of her being alone. Of course she wouldn’t really be alone; she would still have Preston and Piper and Jim and everyone else. But he couldn’t imagine that anyone else could have her back the way he could. If some other poor synth got saddled with all his memories, he knew that one would love her just as much as he did. Even a copy of a copy of Nick Valentine would care for her. Of that he was sure.

Even so, it was a big decision to make. Too big. He passed his hand over his eyes.

“Have you ever heard the fable—or maybe it’s a parable, I don’t know—the one about the axe?” he said.

“I don’t think so.”

“The question is, if you replace the handle so many times, and replace the head so many times, is it still the same axe, or is it a new one? At what point does it stop being the original?”

DiMA looked down in thought.

“When the last original piece is gone, I suppose. But you and I,” he met Nick’s eyes, “we are so much more complicated than that.”

“I know we are.”

“I hope you will at least consider my offer.”

“Yeah,” he nodded, “Yeah, I will.”

He stared at the floor for a moment. He still didn't like the idea. But if it meant he could continue to protect Sole, to be there for her…

He took a breath and let it out. He wanted her input before settling on anything.

“First things first,” he said. “I think I’d like to see my gal. You know where she is?”

“She's still recovering.”

“Still recovering? From what? I know the hike wasn’t easy on her, but surely she isn’t that bad off.”

DiMA gave him a hesitant, confused look.

“Don’t you know?” he said.

His tone gave Nick a chill.

“Know what? What’s going on, what have I missed?”

“Maybe it would be best to show you.”

Nick grabbed his arm.

“Uh-uh. You tell me what happened to her right now.”

DiMA furrowed his brow.

“I thought you knew about the chems.”

“Chems? No, she doesn’t do chems. She took some Rad-X for the fog is all.”

DiMA’s lips became a thin line. He shook his head.

“She did take some Rad-X, and a good number of stimpacks. But there was also Buffout, Mentats, Med-X... and those are just the ones she told us about.”

Nick wavered as though the floor had been ripped out from under him. A moment passed before he could process what he had heard. When his thoughts sorted themselves out, they all pointed to the same course of action.

“I need to see her,” he said. “Right now.”

DiMA fetched him a pair of crutches, then led him down the hall to the sleeping quarters.

Nick hoped the damage wouldn’t be too bad.

But he knew better.


	7. Speechless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nick and Sole discuss their future. What can they do when death seems to lurk at every turn?

Sole’s bed lay in the corner of the room. Some sheets tacked to the ceiling separated it from the rest. Nick pushed them to the side, slowly, so as not to wake her.

She had never looked so pale; her lips had turned the color of salt, and the circles around her eyes were so dark that it gave her face a skull-like appearance. His breath caught when he looked at her.

Her fingers were curled around his stitched fedora. He leaned his crutches against the bedside table, moved his hat, then sat down in its place beside her. He took her hand. She didn’t react; even with his low temperature, he could tell that her skin was cold. Not cold as death, but close. He pressed his thumb to her wrist, relieved to feel her feeble pulse.

If he were able to cry, he knew the sight of her would have done it. He placed a kiss on her sallow cheek.

Her eyes fluttered, then fell shut. She let out a quiet groan.

“Hey, Doll,” he whispered. “You awake?”

She groaned again, then took in a breath.

“Still dreaming,” she murmured. She spoke slowly, as if it took all her energy.

“What makes you say that?” he said.

“You’re here. So this must be a dream.”

He smiled to hear her voice. It grew just a little stronger with every word. He squeezed her hand.

“I’m no expert, but I’m pretty sure you’re awake,” he said.

“But how can I be sure?” she shifted in the bed, eyes still closed. “I’ve been seeing you in my dreams all day.”

“I could pinch you to prove it.”

“No,” she chuckled. “I have a better idea. Tell me something I couldn’t possibly know. Then I’ll be sure it’s really you.”

He thought for a moment.

“I could tell you my birthday.”

“I already know that. February 14th.”

“You’re right about the 14th, but the month is off a bit.”

“What? That’s crazy.”

“No it’s not. It’s November. November 14th, 2039.”

She opened her eyes then and looked to him. Disbelief colored her expression. She let out a breath that was half-whimper.

“It is you,” she said.

Tears gathered at the corners of her bloodshot eyes. She gave a weak smile.

“The one and only,” he said.

She gathered herself closer to him, laughing and crying all at once. He relished the sensation.

“Lay down with me,” she said. “I want to hold you, but I can’t sit up.”

He didn’t have to be asked twice. He lifted the blankets just enough to slip between them. The burning heat that surrounded him felt better than every memory of a hot bath.

She shivered.

“Sorry,” he said. “A cold hunk of metal must be the last thing you want to cozy up to right now.”

“Mmm. You are a hunk.”

“A hunk of junk maybe.”

“Keep up that kind of talk, and I won’t give you any kisses.”

“Is that so?”

“I don’t make the rules.”

“You’ll make an exception for ol’ Nick, won’t you?” he said, drawing closer.

She struggled to hold back a smile.

“Nope. No exceptions,” she said.

“Oh, but my heart’s breaking. Have mercy on me.”

“Kisses are for nice guys.”

“I’m a nice guy.”

She let her eyes fall shut.

“Well…”

Their lips met before she could finish. She sighed.

“I missed you,” she said. “I’ve been so lonesome, laying about all day.”

“Haven’t your grandkids been keeping you company?”

“Yeah, but it’s not the same.”

She ran a hand up and down his arm, bringing it to rest on his shoulder. The covers pulled back to reveal stretches of red marks on her forearm. He didn’t have to ask about the cause. He knew chemical burns when he saw them. He took her wrist and left a path of kisses all the way up to her collarbone. She shivered again. He let her go.

“I know, cold hands,” he said.

“I don’t mind. Here,” she pressed his metal hand to her forehead. “It’ll help my headache.”

“I’m always happy to lend a hand,” he said with a grin. “You like this one?”

“Sure. Is it new or something? Feels different.”

“New to me, at least.”

“Are you telling me you got it second hand?”

He chuckled.

“A second hand hand. How about that.”

“You never cease to fascinate me,” she said.

He rested his chin on the top of her head. He breathed deep, savoring her warmth, the gentle swell and fall of her chest against his.

“Did you talk to DiMA?” she said.

“Yeah, we talked.”

She hesitated.

“Did he tell you about…?”

He nodded. Another silence followed.

“What do you think about that?” she murmured.

He wanted to tell her that he would do it. Or that he still wasn’t sure. But the thought of waking up in yet another body, having to come to terms with the fact that he isn’t who he thinks he is one more time—it wasn’t what he wanted.

“It would be nice to keep this thing going, but,” he took a deep breath and closed his eyes. “I don’t want to come back again.”

Sole twined her fingers behind his neck.

“Alright,” she said.

The silence between them grew to a stifling degree. There was more in it this time.

“Are you disappointed?” he said.

“I’ll be sad to see you go. If you even go first, which I think is a little unlikely. But I’d rather miss you than have never met you at all.”

He expected the mechanisms in his chest to start their old painful tapping, but it didn’t happen. They hummed instead.

“Alright,” he said.

He kissed her forehead. She felt clammy with fever. The sensation sent a pang of guilt through him.

“I’m sorry I put you through all this,” he said. “I’m sorry that we’ve had to talk about all these gloomy things. I’m sorry I’m so stubborn. If I had just thrown in the towel earlier, you wouldn’t have gotten so torn up dragging me all the way here.”

She pulled his hand away from her forehead and kissed each knuckle.

“Sugar-circuits, you’re worth every scar,” she said. “And for the record, I like a man who doesn’t give up.”

“I may have given up just a little bit. There at the end.”

“Honey, you were almost done for. I would have given up a lot sooner than that. Hell, I was out cold thirty seconds after that deathclaw got me.”

“To be fair, you lost a lot of blood.”

“And you got thrown off a roof, so I think we’re even.”

“Okay, you win. On the scale of near-death experiences, we’re even.”

“Good.”

They settled into another silence. One thought weighed heavy on his mind. He hated to ruin the moment by asking, but he had to know.

“So,” he said. “How long have you been stashing those chems?”

She tensed. A moment passed before she spoke.

“Just a little while,” she said.

“I’m not angry. I just want to know why you—” he stopped himself. He knew why she took those pills, and he knew why she lied about it. He let out a breath.

“I thought we weren’t going to hide things from each other,” he continued. “If one of us has a problem…”

“Both of us have a problem. I know. I just,” her words trailed away. She began to tremble; she took a moment to steady her shuddering breath. “I’ve always kept Buffout on me for emergencies. But after you collapsed the first time, I started keeping other things too.”

“Don’t you know all that is just poison? Maybe you haven’t seen what too much of that stuff will do to you—”

“You think I don’t know?” she raised her voice. “Do you really think that? Look at me, Nick. Just look at me.”

Her shallow breathing became a wheezing cough. She pressed a handkerchief to her lips. It didn’t escape his notice that the cloth had several rust-colored stains.

“Doll…”

“I know what I did to myself,” she said, her voice firm. “I knew it would have a cost. Don’t treat me like a child.”

He pulled her closer. He ran his fingers through her tangled hair.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

Sole sighed.

“I’m sorry too. Last time this happened, I couldn’t do anything to help you. And I was so scared—” she took another breath. “I wanted to make sure that if anything ever happened to you again, I would be able to do something.”

“Don’t hurt yourself for my sake. Never for that.”

She curled her fingers around his wrist. Though her grip was weak, he could tell that she was hanging on with everything in her. Her voice came in a whisper.

“I can’t lose you again,” she said.

She broke. Her whole body shook with sobs. Nick pulled her as close as he could. Even so, he wanted to be closer; every part of him that wasn’t touching her felt bare. He wanted to surround her completely, to protect her from the mutants and the chems and the radiation and the deathclaws and everything else that lurked in the Wasteland.

“I’m not going anywhere. Not yet,” he whispered.

“One of these days,” she paused to catch her breath. “I might not be able to fix you. And I know it’s cliché, I know I put on a brave face, but I don’t want to be without you. Ever. You’re my time machine.”

He struggled to keep his own voice steady.

“Time machine?” he said.

She nodded, hiding her tears in his shirt collar.

“You take me back to when things were good.”

Nick wanted to say something, but no words came. He might as well have had the wind knocked out of him. In that moment, he couldn’t stifle his disbelief; he couldn’t believe that she really wanted him that bad. That she loved him that much. Yet what other explanation was there for how she clinged to him? He wrapped his arms tighter around her. She twined her legs with his. Her voice was husky when she spoke.

“I go to sleep every night saying ‘God, please, just give me one more day. All I want is one more tomorrow.’”

He tried to speak again, but sentiment choked his words.

“Even if we only have a little bit of time left,” she continued, “even if there’s no afterlife for you or me or both of us, whatever time we get to spend together—whatever moments we can steal—” she took his face in her hands. “That will be enough for me.”

Tears still dripped down her cheeks. He leaned close and kissed each one away.

“I love you,” he said.

He wanted to say more. His mind went blank; all he could think of was gathering those tears and locking them away where they couldn’t bother her anymore. She trembled, exhausted with weeping. He kissed her again and again, each time repeating those three words.

She drew away. He pulled her close again.

“Wait,” she said, “let me just...”

She undid the leather cord she always wore around her neck. Nate’s wedding ring hung at the end. She pressed it into his hand and closed his fingers around it.

“I don’t understand,” he said.

“You don’t have to say yes,” she said. “You don’t even have to say no. I just want you to have this because I can’t imagine ever giving it to anyone else”

A moment passed before Nick found his voice.

“But this is Nate’s ring,” he said. “Are you sure it’s right for me to have it? Would he—would he approve—?”

She gave a little smile.

“He was in the army. We talked about me remarrying in the event of his death on the third date”

“Huh. He must have been a real stand-up fella to be good enough for you.”

“Yeah,” she said. “He was a good man.”

She traced her fingers over his brow, along his cheek, just shy of his lips.

“He was so much like you.”

Something in him shattered. He couldn’t stand the space between them anymore. He felt that if he waited one second longer, all his repairs would come undone. She might have been made of magnets, as powerless as he was to resist.

In the blink of an eye, he pressed his lips to hers. He followed her every move, delighting in every touch, savoring the breathless ardor with which she returned his affection.

He was falling all to pieces.

He kissed her cheek again, then her neck, then her shoulder, saving the last kiss for her heart. The heart that he could almost hear pounding just below her skin. The heart that beat with love for him.

At last he drew away. The kisses weren’t enough—they never would be. Even so, he pulled back. He had something to tell her.

“Well,” he said. “There’s my answer.”

Her chest still heaved from the kiss. A slight blush colored her pale cheek.

“What answer?” she said.

“To your question. The answer is yes. I’ve never had a Mrs. Valentine before; it’s about time I did.”

She pressed a hand to her lips. She nodded; more tears fell down the sides of her face. She pulled him close and rested his head on her chest. Her arms twined around his neck, and she held him, wordless.

Nick couldn’t say how much time passed. Her breathing slowed to a gentle pace. He listened to the subtle pounding in her ribs and didn’t count the minutes.

“Don’t let me keep you here,” she murmured. “I’ll probably be asleep in a few minutes.”

“I think I’ll stay,” he said. “Maybe dream a little.”

“You don’t sleep, but now you’re telling me you dream?”

He squeezed her around the middle.

“I’m alive. I’ve got you in my arms,” he said. “If that ain’t a dream, I don’t know what is.”

Her chest dipped as she let out a breath.

“I love you, Mr. Valentine,” she whispered.

“Mrs. Valentine.”

He pressed close, letting his body conform to hers, reciting snatches of poems until she drifted at last to sleep. He was there when she fell; the next morning, he was there when she awoke. God willing, he would always be there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My prayer  
> Is to linger with you  
> At the end of the day  
> In a dream that's divine
> 
> My prayer  
> Is rapture in blue  
> With the world far away  
> And your lips close to mine
> 
> "My Prayer," - the Inkspots


End file.
